


The Only Place I Ever Called Home Was You

by hunters_retreat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Time Travel, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-26
Updated: 2010-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean never talk about what happened that night, but what happens when they find themselves in the same town, the night before everything went wrong? Can they change their past? And if they can, what happens to their future?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Place I Ever Called Home Was You

[ ](http://s1180.photobucket.com/user/hunters_retreat/media/Art%20Made%20for%20hunters_retreat/Only%20Place%20I%20Ever%20Called%20Home%20Was%20You/0001wxp1.jpg.html)

_Footfalls echo in the memory  
Down the passage which we did not take  
Towards the door we never opened  
T.S. Eliot_

 

  
  
  
Sam heard the words in his head, whispering something both vague and ominous.  
  
 _Breath of life that never was._  
  
He tried to open his eyes but all he could manage was a weak groan. He reached out but there was nothing but soft fabric under his hands. Another groan came from the room, a voice he knew well followed by another string of harsh noise.  
  
 _Rushing heat of moments that never passed._  
  
He pushed himself up off his back and his head spun even as he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. He knew the motel instantly, memories pressing into the back of his head so strong he wanted to heave out the contents of his stomach. He knew the horrible décor and he was rolling onto his side, scrambling to get upright and find his brother before his mind could catch up and tell him he couldn’t be where he thought he was.   
  
“Dean!”   
  
There must have been a note of panic in his voice because then Dean was sitting up also, his eyes searching the room for the threat before turning red shot eyes to his brother.   
  
“This isn’t our room.”   
  
Sam wanted to snap at Dean for stating the obvious but a part of him was hoping Dean wouldn’t recognize where they were. He watched as Dean’s eyes grew wide though, watched pain and memories settle on his shoulders before he closed himself off.  
  
It’d been 10 years since they’d been there, 10 years and not a thing had changed really. The furniture wasn’t quite the way he remembered it, but everything from the wallpaper to the cheesy art deco inspired decorations were still there.  
  
“Sam, we weren’t anywhere near here,” there was a hint of panic in Dean’s voice as well.   
  
Sam nodded because he wasn’t sure what to say. They didn’t drive within a 50 mile radius of this town except when their father had been with them and he hadn’t known. Neither had been willing to talk about it that night, each for their own reasons and Sam doubted either of them were willing to talk about it now.  
  
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Just another hunt, Sam reminded himself. They would figure it out and drive the hell out of town with no damage done.   
  
“We finished the salt and burn, and then we went to the motel and crashed.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s all I remember too.”  
  
“Well fuck.”  
  
Sam snorted because there really wasn’t anything else to say to that. Something, anything, sending them there had to know what the town meant to them and that wasn’t good at all.  
  
  
They both showered and Sam thought Dean was probably feeling just as sullied as he was by the place, if not more so. Dean had amazing powers of ignorance though and part of Sam wondered if Dean really remembered everything as clearly as he did. Then again, he’d seen his brothers eyes when he’d recognized it, before he’d shut it all down, and Sam silently cursed. He’d always hoped Dean had blocked it out but of all the damn times, his memory seemed to be working just fine.   
  
There was no hot water by the time Sam stepped out, but for once he didn’t complain about the short shower. Dean had more need of a hot scrubbing than he did.  
  
They decided to head into town to get an idea about what they might be doing there. At least, that was the idea until they stumbled out of their motel room and Dean pushed his elbow back into Sam’s chest, stopping him still in the doorway.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
Sam gaped because it was his voice saying his brother’s name, only he hadn’t opened his mouth. The voice was younger though, his but younger. A much younger version of Dean’s voice answered in the tight, annoyed fashion that Sam remembered so well from his childhood.   
  
“What Sammy?”  
  
“When is he coming back?”  
  
“I don’t know,” there was a pause and then Dean’s voice started again. “Diner’s just down the street. Let’s get some breakfast.”  
  
“How are you going to pay for it this time?” Sam watched as the two came out from their rooms, just next door, stared like a deer caught in headlights as his younger self pulled at his brother’s arm.   
  
“Dean.”  
  
“I’ve got it covered Sam, don’t worry.”  
  
The younger Dean pulled away, but even watching Sam could tell the younger man was worried and hurt. His younger self didn’t see any of it though. He only had a moment to wonder how he could have misunderstood his brother’s reactions to things all those years ago before he was shoved back into the room. He shook his head, pushing past the awe of seeing himself and Dean 10 years earlier.   
  
“Dean?”  
  
“What the hell?”  
  
His brother was murderous. It was the only word he could think of to describe the look in his eye, the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his side. He was like fury leashed. He was beautiful.   
  
“Why here? Why right now?”  
  
Sam closed his eyes as he sat heavily on the edge of his bed. He had no idea why. Memories crowded in his head and he tried not to let it take over, tried not to let the way that one day had changed everything press into him.   
  
He told himself for years that it wouldn’t have mattered. He had his brother with him and that was enough. It didn’t matter that he’d planned on confessing how messed up he was to Dean back in that motel room. It didn’t matter because as much as Sam had been convinced that Dean might return his fucked up feeling back then, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d never said anything and Dean had never once looked at him with anything more than brotherly concern. What happened in that room didn’t change any of that. It just made things a lot harder than it had to be on all of them.   
  
He’d watched over the years, waiting, always hoping to see something in Dean’s eyes but never once did he get anything in return for that. Dean was his brother, he never had been and never would be anything more.   
  
For a while, Sam had escaped that suffocating hope, when he’d had Stanford and Jess and a life that could make sense without Dean. He’d never stopped missing him though and when he was pulled back into the hunt after a few years it was the same thing again, the same need to be close to Dean but always dancing the never ending line of want-but-can’t-have.  
  
That night, after Dean came home, Sam hadn’t had the courage to tell him what he was thinking. It became his first secret, his biggest, and still the longest running. That secret had burnt a whole through his heart and his tongue turned to ash when he talked to Dean and John, blaming them both for something he would never be able to confess to.   
  
Instead, he’d escaped to Stanford. He’d turned all his pain into something harsh and dark and directed at his family, trying to hurt them in ways they didn’t understand they’d hurt him. He blamed John for not being there that night, for never being there, for putting Dean in that position. And he blamed Dean for backing John up, for never calling for help when they needed it, for putting a good face on it all when they both knew how bad it had been. It made it easier to walk out the door, leaving behind the brother he worshiped.   
  
He snapped out of his head when he realized Dean was moving. He was at the door before Sam was able to do much more than stare after him, but then Sam was walking behind Dean just as he made his way into the motel office.  
  
“Good morning,” the young woman behind the counter smiled, plastering on the too sugary grin for Dean as she eyed him appreciatively. It wouldn’t be so creepy if Sam didn’t remember her doing the same thing to his much younger brother. “Anything I can do for you boys today?”  
  
“Yeah, room 12-C. I need to pay them up for the month.”  
  
It didn’t surprise Sam that Dean knew the room number but it just reinforced that Dean remembered it all. Every fucking bit of it.  
  
“The month?” She asked.  
  
Sam didn’t wait for the rest, turning back out of the office to keep the bile down.   
  
He didn’t know how Dean would explain it and he didn’t want to know. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Dean to change things, but he knew better. They’d change things now and get their hopes up and something would come along and change it and they’d be right back where they started, with Sam patching up his older brother and Dean closing himself off because Sam was too young but experienced enough to understand what Dean had been doing that night.   
  
There was a bench outside the office and Sam took a seat there, waiting for Dean. He wasn’t sure it mattered anyway. Dean would do what he had to do to protect Sam. Even if what Dean was doing now worked, it would happen anyway, Dean too damned stubborn to tell their Dad off for not leaving enough money and too proud to call anyone else. He’d try to find a way to do it on his own and it would lead to…   
  
“Sam?”  
  
Dean’s voice was soft as he felt the bench shift under his weight.  
  
“Yeah Dean?”  
  
“Can’t hurt to try, right?”  
  
Sam huffed because it was better than letting loose with his tears. He knew about Dean’s other journey to the past, how he’d been unable to stop their mother’s bargain. He’d had his own trip back with Dean and that hadn’t turned out any better. He didn’t have enough strength to think his brother could fix this, but he couldn’t crush Dean’s hope.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“They’ll hunt tonight.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“If I … if he doesn’t … go out tonight. They’ll finish the hunt.”  
  
Sam nodded. “Maybe we should just stick around and make sure they finish the hunt right.”  
  
  
Neither said anything as they slipped back to their room but Dean piled up most the cash they had and snuck into their younger selves’ room, hiding it with the rest of Dean and Sam’s stash. If they found it they might think John had come through quickly and left it for them. It wouldn’t be the first time their old man had come through and left things for them without sticking around to see them.   
  
Sam watched when Dean came back, his shoulders hunched and his eyes tracking everything in the room, resting on nothing just to keep up the charade of nonchalance. Sam rolled over on the bed, looking away from his brother. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.   
  
He heard the rustling of cloth behind him and the click of the bathroom door a moment later. He wasn’t surprised to hear the shower running again, even if his own hair was still wet from the shower. If Dean needed a shower to rid himself of the memories, who was Sam to blame him?  
  
  
  
It was different than Sam remembered. He didn’t want to think it meant anything, but something flipped in his stomach anyway at the thought that just maybe they _had_ changed things. He didn’t dare look over at his brother, but he could see the nervous way Dean shifted from foot to foot as he crouched behind a large tree in the cemetery. Sam was on the other side of the clearing behind one of the larger memorials, watching as their younger selves dug up the grave and finished the hunt. Nothing was stirring. Sam remembered it from the first time, how the ghost had been too weak to stop them. It was the only reason Dean had allowed Sam to go on the hunt with him in the first place without talking to their dad about it.   
  
He watched Sam throw his shovel to the side as he scrambled out of the grave, the younger version of Dean crawling out beside him. Sam closed his eyes at the image of his brother, still young and hopeful even though he’d seen too much in his 20 years. Dean, who still looked at his kid brother with annoyance and fondness and something that felt like purpose. He knew now what those looks meant, knew how much of himself Dean had given to Sam before Sam could really understand that it wasn’t something a brother should have to do. Sam had given himself back completely, but it didn’t make it right.   
  
“Dean?”   
  
He looked over at himself. This was all new. Everything from the time their younger selves had come back from the diner that morning, they were all memories that Sam didn’t have. He knew something was going to change it, had to change it since he didn’t remember it that way, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to see what would happen next.   
  
Dean looked up as he tossed the book of matches into the grave, watching the flames lick higher. “Yeah Sammy?”  
  
“Do you ever want anything else?” Dean didn’t answer but his brow furrowed as he looked at Sam for an explanation. “I mean, like to go to college or have a steady girl or something.”  
  
Dean snorted, a little laugh that meant everything and nothing, but he’d been too young then to interpret it. “I’m a hunter Sammy. What else could I be? College? A girl? What’s all that next to saving people?”  
  
Sam nodded as he stepped closer to his brother. “I just… I think about it sometimes.”  
  
“A girl? Don’t tell me you’ve got a girl in town Sam…”  
  
“No.” He said immediately. “No, I just mean that I’ve thought about going off. To college. I’ve been thinking about it for a while actually. I know Dad won’t like the idea, but I thought you’d understand.”  
  
“You want to leave us behind?” Dean’s voice snapped out. Sam could see the way his eyes narrowed in anger, in pain. “What the hell makes you think I’m gonna understand that?”   
  
He turned away from Sam, walking back to the car and threw the sawed off in the trunk before Sam caught up to him, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders, his head buried in the back of Dean’s neck.   
  
“No, I’m not leaving you!” Sam tried to explain. “I want you to come with me. Dean, I can’t leave you but I want to try something else. I won’t go if you won’t come with me though.”  
  
“Sam,” his voice cut off as if that was all he could manage to croak out, but one hand came up to rub at Sam’s hands, still clasped across Dean’s chest.   
  
“Dean,” Sam pulled his arms away from Dean, but only long enough to turn him around. Looking up at his brother, young Sam took a step closer. Something in his eyes must have worried Dean because he took a step away, backing himself into the Impala. Sam just pushed in a little closer until their chests were pressed together. “I … need this.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he closed the distance, brushing his lips across his brothers.   
  
Sam’s heart clenched as he watched in horrid fascination. Dean didn’t push him away or try to punch him, but he wasn’t participating either. He was letting Sam take what he needed and that was all. It felt like a punch to the gut, even though he’d always know that was the way it would happen if he got the nerve to confess.  
  
Dean finally pulled back from the kiss and Sam was wrapping one hand behind Dean’s neck to hold him steady, pressing their foreheads together. “Don’t, please. I want you Dean. Want you to go to college with me, hunt on the weekends together, hang out and watch crappy TV in an apartment together somewhere. Just the two of us. Want to kiss you. Want to fall into bed with you and never come back out.”  
  
“Sam, you don’t want this.”  
  
“Yeah I do Dean. I’m not a kid. I know my mind, my heart. I want us to be together. If you won’t go to school with me then I’ll stay here, I’ll hunt with you, so we can be together.”  
  
Dean pushed Sam’s shoulders back slightly, forcing Sam to look him in the eye. “You. Don’t. Want. This.”  
  
Sam squared himself with his brother and raised his chin slightly, ready for the fight. “Every fucking day I want this. Every night I go to sleep dreaming of the things I want you to do to me Dean.”  
  
Dean shivered and Sam took it as a sign, pressing back up against his brother. “Want you to kiss me Dean, want you to lick and bite every inch of me. Want you to suck me off before you slide into me. Want you to fuck me into the mattress so I feel you for a week after.”  
  
Dean closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Sam took the opportunity to bite lightly at the long expanse of neck in front of him. “I think maybe you want that too.”  
  
“Fuck Sammy,” One of Dean’s hands gripped his hip tightly pulling him in as the other fisted in his hair, bringing their lips together in a hungry kiss.   
  
Sam watched the way his brother’s lips captured his, demanding and forceful and everything he’d always thought his brother would be as a lover. There was no hesitation in his movements as one hand began to stroke across younger Sam’s back, cupping his ass and pulling them together until there was no space to breath between them.  
  
There was a crack from the other side of the clearing and Sam and Dean pulled apart, Sam drawing his gun up even as Dean pulled a knife. Older Sam had his sawed off pulled as well but nothing came out and the younger boys relaxed.   
  
“At the motel Sammy. We’ll talk about this at the motel.”  
  
Sam nodded, but put his hand on Dean’s wrist. “Just… think about it Dean. I meant what I said. I’m with you, wherever that is. If you want to see us both hunting then I’ll stay, but if you want something more, want to go to school with me and start a life of our own, we can do that. It’s your call.”  
  
“Sam,”  
  
“Just think about it Dean, alright?”  
  
Dean stared at him for a minute, then pulled Sam in for a lingering kiss. “Yeah, alright. Now let’s get out of here. I need a shower and a good night’s sleep. Or something.”  
  
Sam was grinning as he slid into the front seat of the Impala. Dean looked back over the clearing, giving it one last look, before opening the driver’s side and settling behind the wheel. There was something different in the set of his shoulders though, something lighter in his movements as he finally started up the car.  
  
Sam watched the car drive off and seemed stuck to the spot. His brain was reeling with the thought of what he’d seen. He didn’t pull out of it until he heard movement again. When he looked up he saw his brother’s back as he made his way to their stolen car.  
  
  
  
The ride to the hotel was silent. Sam was staring out the window, trying to figure out how to explain it all to Dean, trying to figure out how it would all go wrong. When the door of the Impala slammed shut it jolted Sam out of his thoughts and he realized they were already back at the motel, Dean half way in the door.   
  
Sam grabbed his pack and carried it in, still trying to find words. He dropped the pack as soon as the door closed, forgetting everything as he found his brother sitting at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. There was something broken about Dean in that posture, something that Sam couldn’t help but sooth.   
  
He knelt on the floor in front of Dean and let his hand run over Dean’s back, sure that any other form of touch would be rejected outright. Dean tensed at his touch but didn’t push him away. Sam closed his eyes, trying to think of something that would make Dean relax. Something that would make the older brother as calm as his younger version had seemed when he left the graveyard.  
  
After kissing Sam.  
  
After kissing… wait.  
  
It’d been years since Sam had held any hope that Dean thought of him as anything more than a brother. But in this past, Dean had kissed him back. Dean had kissed Sam and he knew without a doubt that Dean had wanted that as badly as he had.   
  
He closed his eyes, wishing he was as brave as that young man, that he had the courage to just kiss his brother and to hell with everything else that had come between them.  
  
“Dean,” his voice broke which was just as well because he still didn’t know what to say. Dean looked up at him though, pain and loss in his eyes and Sam didn’t think, just channeled the young man from the grave yard. He pressed forward into Dean’s space, brushing their lips together.  
  
“Sammy,” it was almost a sob and Sam cut off anything else by licking his way into his brother’s mouth. Dean groaned and Sam pushed closer as Dean’s fingers wrapped in his hair, tilting his head to the perfect angle.  
  
Sam let his brother control the kiss and when Dean’s hands pulled him up onto the bed, he let himself be guided back onto it. Dean began pulling at Sam’s shirts and Sam took the hint. He kicked off his shoes on the side of the bed then stripped out of his layers, throwing them to the side, watching the growing pile of clothes as Dean added his own.  
  
When Dean’s body covered his, Sam couldn’t keep his hands from pulling at Dean’s hips, settling him between his legs right where he wanted him. Dean bit Sam’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as he ground his hips down into Sam’s. Sam’s eyes closed at the feel of it.  
  
“Never knew,” Dean whispered against Sam’s cheek, his lips moving down to Sam’s neck as he continued to bite and lick. “Never wanted you to find out.”  
  
Sam arched into Dean’s mouth, shivered as his brother’s calloused hands caressed his skin and pressed into the bulge of his jeans. “Wanted this for so fucking long.”   
  
Dean made quick work of the button and zipper, pulling Sam’s clothes away from his body, leaving him naked and wanting on the bed. Then, with Sam’s eyes fixated on all that naked skin, Dean let his own pants drop slowly. Sam wanted to touch, to taste, to do anything Dean would let him, but he wanted to engrave the moment in his mind so he stared at Dean, memorizing the lines he’d never been allowed to look so closely at.  
  
Dean seemed to want the time also, his eyes tracking the most minute movements of Sam’s hand, the way his fingers clenched with the need to touch. When Dean finally crawled up the bed to Sam, he was grasping him closer, pulling him into a hard, dirty kiss. Dean groaned into it, his hips digging into Sam’s as he rolled against him.  
  
“Dean, please,” Sam begged, needing this to be more than just dirty groping. He needed to be claimed, needed his brother’s mark on him, inside him.   
  
Dean’s mouth traced down Sam’s neck and chest, his hands moving across his skin and leaving Sam panting for more. His breath was warm against Sam’s cock, his lips trailing a soft path down and back up until he was swallowing him down.   
  
Dean’s hands held him down, keeping him from thrusting up but it didn’t take long before he felt the pleasure building. “Dean, not gonna last,”  
  
Dean seemed to understand what he wanted because then he pulled back, pressing fingers into his body while his tongue lapped at his aching cock. Dean opened him slowly, taking his time to make Sam squirm on his fingers before he was finally ready. When he pressed into Sam’s body, Dean stopped as he bottomed out and Sam pulled him down, kissing him hard before Dean’s hips began to softly roll against him.  
  
They both moaned and then Dean was pistoning in and out of his body, Sam’s world narrowing to their bodies, the scent and taste and feel of Dean in him and all around him. Dean rested his forehead on Sam’s, their breath mingling as he worked them both closer to the edge, one hand coming up to wrap around Sam’s cock. Hard fingers, firm strokes made Sam gasp and then he was coming over his brother’s hand. As his body clenched around him, Dean leaned in for a bruising kiss as pleasure ripped through him. His hips stuttered a few short thrusts and then he was still, his kisses turning gentle and loving.  
  
When Dean finally fell to his back beside him, Sam curled up into him, his head resting on Dean’s shoulder with one hand over his heart. His eyes were droopy and he couldn’t help but relax further as Dean’s hand drifted into his hair, fingers running lightly through it.  
  
“Tomorrow, figure out why we’re here Dean.” He said softly. “Can’t ignore it to look after them anymore.”  
  
“I know Sammy, I just … I had to try.”  
  
Sam leaned up, pressing a kiss to Dean’s lips as he looked down at his brother. “I know. I did too Dean.” They stared at one another for a moment before Dean’s hands wrap in his hair again and pulled him in for another kiss, then helped his brother settle against his chest again.  
  
“Night Sammy.”  
  
“Night Dean.” The last thing he registered as sleep called for him was the warmth of his brother’s embrace and the soft press of lips against his forehead.  
  
  
Sam woke with a blinding headache. It took a few minutes to remember the night before and then he was sitting up, hand flying to his head as if that could stop the throbbing. “Dean?”  
  
His brother wasn’t in bed with him. Sam was dressed in his regular night clothes and they were back at the motel in Montana, hell and gone from where they’d been the night before. Years after the night before, he knew. “What the hell?”  
  
Dean walked out of the bathroom, dark circles under his eyes and Sam could see the pain in them. “Feel like you got hit by a bus?” Dean held out a cup of coffee and three pain killers which Sam downed instantly.  
  
“Just my head.”  
  
“Good to know we’re both in the same shape.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“Sam, what do you remember about… last night?”  
  
Dean’s face was slightly red and Sam hadn’t seen that shade of blush on his brother in years. He smiled at it, at the way Dean was trying to make things right for Sam, just like he always did. “Do you mean, do I remember going back in time and getting fucked by my brother? Yeah, I remember that.”  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
Sam looked at Dean then, knew his brother was asking for more but wasn’t sure why. He took a deep breath and a long pull from his coffee before thinking back to the day before. He remembered finding their younger selves. He remembered the hunt and the graveyard. He remembered taking Dean to the crappy town carnival and eating cotton candy from his brother’s fingers until Dean licked his way into his mouth to steal it back.  
  
“What the hell?”  
  
Dean let out a snort. “Yeah, thought so. Carnival?”  
  
“Dean, what’s going on?”  
  
“I’m not sure Sammy.” He said, sitting on the other bed. “It goes back further. I have two sets of memories.  I don’t know how , don’t know why. How far back can you remember both … uh … timelines?”  
  
He closed his eyes but it just made the pain worse.  He'd always been more susceptible to headaches than Dean, even with his light eyes.  Bastard.  “I can’t think Dean. I need some time with this one.”  
  
“Yeah. Come on. Get dressed and let’s get some breakfast. We’ll talk when we get back.”  
  
  
  
Breakfast was quiet. Dean didn’t talk and Sam was too wrapped up in his memories to say anything. Dean was right, two sets of memories going back to the night they changed everything. He has a full set of memories from the life he lived, going back to Dean coming back to the motel that night, beaten and bruised in ways Sam had always been too afraid to ask about. He’d patched Dean up and all his brother would say was something about not having to worry about rent for a while. He’d wanted to throttle Dean, to beat the hell out of the manager the next day when he watched Dean moving with deliberate casualness, with a smirk. He also remembered Dean not having to go out that night to try to pay for their room, remembered being in the graveyard with Dean. He remembered Dean making love to him for the first time on his eighteenth birthday and Dean moving up to Palo Alto with him.   
  
Two lives full of memories but only one that he’d actually lived. Two lives, one ending in the apocalypse and the other with his brother at his side, living as lovers, hunting from a home they owned in North Dakota.   
  
“What are we going to do?” Sam finally asked, breaking the silence between them.  
  
“Figure we should check with Bobby and see what he has to say about it.”  
  
Sam nodded. “Good idea.”  
  
  
“Possible? I ain’t fool enough to say it ain’t possible.” Bobby said as they sat around the table talking about their memories over a bottle of beer. They were vague about it, not mentioning them as lovers or Dean’s rape, but Bobby was shrewd and he seemed to understand they were steering clear of those things. At least Bobby was the same.  
  
“We just… I don’t know what to do with all these memories I haven’t lived.”  
  
“And you think you live out of your car?”  
  
Sam closed his eyes. OK. At least Bobby was mostly normal. “Yeah, I’ve never lived in North Dakota Bobby. Dean didn’t leave Dad to go to Stanford with me.”  
  
Bobby nodded as he looked back at Dean for confirmation. When his brother gave it, Bobby sighed. “Well, what the hell were you working on before all this happened?”  
  
Dean took a seat at the table, forgetting for a minute and brushing his hands over Sam’s neck. Sam shivered slightly at the contact but Dean didn’t seem to notice as he told Bobby about their last hunt. “Daevas. We managed to find the person calling them and we released them. They couldn’t have done anything like this though.” Dean said, continuing on with the details of the hunt.  
  
“Wait Dean, what about the other creatures?”  
  
“The Puru?”  
  
“Peri.”  
  
“Wait, you tangled with a Peri?”  
  
“No, they were caged. We let them out. It didn’t seem to be fair to leave them like that. They hadn’t done anything to draw attention to themselves so it made sense to let them be.”  
  
“Damn. They’re strong enough for something like that.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Well yeah. They’re considered fallen angels though that lore might not be too reliable. However, everything agrees that the Peri and the Daevas have a constant battle raging. If you set them free, they’d have felt they owed you and the Peri would want to settle that debt as quickly as possible.”  
  
“So, you think they sent us back in time to let us fix something?”  
  
“You tell me Sam. Did you go back in time and save something? Or was it all for nothing?”  
  
“No. We,” he looked up at Dean and Dean nodded. “This, if this is real Bobby, this is better.” No apocalypse, no demon blood, no demon deals or hell. Just Dean and Sam hunting, living off the money Sam made as a programmer and a patent or two that Dean had on some hunting gear.   
  
“Thing is, a Peri is sort of like a faery. They don’t like to own someone and they don’t like to give anything freely either. “  
  
“So they sent us back to fix something in our past to repay us.”  
  
“But we kept the memories of both lives. Nothing for free,” Dean said with a shake of his head.  
  
“I wouldn’t complain boy. The Peri are known for causing trouble. If memories are the worst you got, you should be thankful.”  
  
Dean didn’t say anything, but for a second there was something haunted in his eyes. Sam knew what it was, knew the life they’d lived and how it would haunt them both, no matter that they’d managed to change so much of it.  
  
“Yeah Bobby.” Sam finally said. When Dean looked up at him, Sam smiled softly. “We did get something good from the Peri, and for that I am thankful.”  
  
  
Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder, smiling at the way his brother drew the Peri in strong bold ink lines, so unlike his own lightly sketched pencil drawings that adorned the entries in his journal. “Looks just like him.”  
  
“Think it’s odd that if I focus, I can remember taking an art class at the Y, but that I can remember how to draw without thinking?” Dean asked.  
  
They’d agreed right away to start another journal with everything they knew from their other lives. They had one for hunting and Sam had his own, memories of Stanford and Jess tucked away to save in case it ever started to fade.   
  
“Nah. I just think it’s odd that you took an art class.”  
  
“Good place to pick up chicks.”  
  
Sam leaned down, laughing lightly as he kissed the top of Dean’s head. “As I recall, the only thing you picked up in that class was me.”  
  
“Can’t help it you were such a hot body model.”  
  
“Still can’t believe you talked me into modeling for your class.”  
  
Dean turned in his chair and looked back at Sam. “Had to prove I had a hot boyfriend. They all thought you were made up.”  
  
Dean laughed as he stood up, and that right there was why neither Sam nor Dean were worrying too much about the way their lives had turned out. As much as they both still had to battle with the guilt and pain they’d lived through, they had a whole other life, filled with love and laughter. Dean was more apt to smile now and Sam knew he himself worried a lot less. When Dean pressed him back onto the bed, Sam didn’t protest. “Think you’ll ever get used to living in one place?” Sam asked before Dean could silence him with kisses.  
  
Dean propped himself up on one arm, looking down at his little brother. “Have been for years Sammy.” Dean said. “No matter what set of memories you use, the only place I ever called home was you.”  
  
Sam took a deep breath, calming the rush of love and affection that filled him. “Love you Dean.” He said when he couldn’t hold it in any longer.  
  
“Love you too Sammy.” Dean said, brushing his lips over his brother’s bottom lip. “In this universe and any other.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the pictures2words challenge on live journal! Beta’d by awesome agent_jl36 , all mistakes are still my own. Thank you to angstpuppy as well for the amazing artwork that inspired this story!


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